April
13th, 1834. — The
Beagle
anchored within the mouth of the Santa Cruz. This river is situated
about sixty miles south of Port St. Julian. During the last voyage
Captain Stokes proceeded thirty miles up it, but then, from the want
of provisions, was obliged to return. Excepting what was discovered
at that time, scarcely anything was known about this large river.
Captain Fitz Roy now determined to follow its course as far as time
would allow. On the 18th three whale-boats started, carrying three
weeks’ provisions; and the party consisted of twenty-five souls — a
force which would have been sufficient to have defied a host of
Indians. With a strong flood-tide and a fine day we made a good run,
soon drank some of the fresh water, and were at night nearly above
the tidal influence.

The
river here assumed a size and appearance which, even at the highest
point we ultimately reached, was scarcely diminished. It was
generally from three to four hundred yards broad, and in the middle
about seventeen feet deep. The rapidity of the current, which in its
whole course runs at the rate of from four to six knots an hour, is
perhaps its most remarkable feature. The water is of a fine blue
colour, but with a slight milky tinge, and not so transparent as at
first sight would have been expected. It flows over a bed of pebbles,
like those which compose the beach and the surrounding plains. It
runs in a winding course through a valley, which extends in a direct
line westward. This valley varies from five to ten miles in breadth;
it is bounded by step-formed terraces, which rise in most parts, one
above the other, to the height of five hundred feet, and have on the
opposite sides a remarkable correspondence.

April
19th. — Against
so strong
a current it was, of course, quite impossible to row or sail:
consequently the three boats were fastened together head and stern,
two hands left in each, and the rest came on shore to track. As the
general arrangements made by Captain Fitz Roy were very good for
facilitating the work of all, and as all had a share in it, I will
describe the system. The party, including every one, was divided into
two spells, each of which hauled at the tracking line alternately for
an hour and a half. The officers of each boat lived with, ate the
same food, and slept in the same tent with their crew, so that each
boat was quite independent of the others. After sunset the first
level spot where any bushes were growing was chosen for our night’s
lodging. Each of the crew took it in turns to be cook. Immediately
the boat was hauled up, the cook made his fire; two others pitched
the tent; the coxswain handed the things out of the boat; the rest
carried them up to the tents and collected firewood. By this order,
in half an hour everything was ready for the night. A watch of two
men and an officer was always kept, whose duty it was to look after
the boats, keep up the fire, and guard against Indians. Each in the
party had his one hour every night.

During
this day we tracked but a short distance, for there were many islets,
covered by thorny bushes, and the channels between them were shallow.

April
20th. — We
passed the
islands and set to work. Our regular day’s march, although it was
hard enough, carried us on an average only ten miles in a straight
line, and perhaps fifteen or twenty altogether. Beyond the place
where we slept last night, the country is completely terra
incognita,
for it was
there that Captain Stokes turned back. We saw in the distance a great
smoke, and found the skeleton of a horse, so we knew that Indians
were in the neighbourhood. On the next morning (21st) tracks of a
party of horse, and marks left by the trailing of the chuzos, or long
spears, were observed on the ground. It was generally thought that
the Indians had reconnoitred us during the night. Shortly afterwards
we came to a spot where, from the fresh footsteps of men, children,
and horses, it was evident that the party had crossed the river.

April
22nd. — The
country
remained the same, and was extremely uninteresting. The complete
similarity of the productions throughout Patagonia is one of its most
striking characters. The level plains of arid shingle support the
same stunted and dwarf plants; and in the valleys the same
thorn-bearing bushes grow. Everywhere we see the same birds and
insects. Even the very banks of the river and of the clear streamlets
which entered it, were scarcely enlivened by a brighter tint of
green. The curse of sterility is on the land, and the water flowing
over a bed of pebbles partakes of the same curse. Hence the number of
waterfowl is very scanty; for there is nothing to support life in the
stream of this barren river.

Patagonia,
poor as she is in some respects, can however boast of a greater stock
of small rodents1
than perhaps any other country in the world. Several species of mice
are externally characterised by large thin ears and a very fine fur.
These little animals swarm amongst the thickets in the valleys, where
they cannot for months together taste a drop of water excepting the
dew. They all seem to be cannibals; for no sooner was a mouse caught
in one of my traps than it was devoured by others. A small and
delicately-shaped fox, which is likewise very abundant, probably
derives its entire support from these small animals. The guanaco is
also in his proper district, herds of fifty or a hundred were common;
and, as I have stated, we saw one which must have contained at least
five hundred. The puma, with the condor and other carrion-hawks in
its train, follows and preys upon these animals. The footsteps of the
puma were to be seen almost everywhere on the banks of the river; and
the remains of several guanacos, with their necks dislocated and
bones broken, showed how they had met their death.

April
24th. — Like
the
navigators of old when approaching an unknown land, we examined and
watched for the most trivial sign of a change. The drifted trunk of a
tree, or a boulder of primitive rock, was hailed with joy, as if we
had seen a forest growing on the flanks of the Cordillera. The top,
however, of a heavy bank of clouds, which remained almost constantly
in one position, was the most promising sign, and eventually turned
out a true harbinger. At first the clouds were mistaken for the
mountains themselves, instead of the masses of vapour condensed by
their icy summits.

April
26th. — We
this day met
with a marked change in the geological structure of the plains. From
the first starting I had carefully examined the gravel in the river,
and for the two last days had noticed the presence of a few small
pebbles of a very cellular basalt. These gradually increased in
number and in size, but none were as large as a man’s head. This
morning, however, pebbles of the same rock, but more compact,
suddenly became abundant, and in the course of half an hour we saw,
at the distance of five or six miles, the angular edge of a great
basaltic platform. When we arrived at its base we found the stream
bubbling among the fallen blocks. For the next twenty-eight miles the
river-course was encumbered with these basaltic masses. Above that
limit immense fragments of primitive rocks, derived from the
surrounding boulder-formation, were equally numerous. None of the
fragments of any considerable size had been washed more than three or
four miles down the river below their parent-source: considering the
singular rapidity of the great body of water in the Santa Cruz, and
that no still reaches occur in any part, this example is a most
striking one, of the inefficiency of rivers in transporting even
moderately-sized fragments.

The
basalt is only lava which has flowed beneath the sea; but the
eruptions must have been on the grandest scale. At the point where we
first met this formation it was 120 feet in thickness; following up
the river-course, the surface imperceptibly rose and the mass became
thicker, so that at forty miles above the first station it was 320
feet thick. What the thickness may be close to the Cordillera, I have
no means of knowing, but the platform there attains a height of about
three thousand feet above the level of the sea: we must therefore
look to the mountains of that great chain for its source; and worthy
of such a source are streams that have flowed over the gently
inclined bed of the sea to a distance of one hundred miles. At the
first glance of the basaltic cliffs on the opposite sides of the
valley it was evident that the strata once were united. What power,
then, has removed along a whole line of country a solid mass of very
hard rock, which had an average thickness of nearly three hundred
feet, and a breadth varying from rather less than two miles to four
miles? The river, though it has so little power in transporting even
inconsiderable fragments, yet in the lapse of ages might produce by
its gradual erosion an effect, of which it is difficult to judge the
amount. But in this case, independently of the insignificance of such
an agency, good reasons can be assigned for believing that this
valley was formerly occupied by an arm of the sea. It is needless in
this work to detail the arguments leading to this conclusion, derived
from the form and the nature of the step-formed terraces on both
sides of the valley, from the manner in which the bottom of the
valley near the Andes expands into a great estuary-like plain with
sand-hillocks on it, and from the occurrence of a few sea-shells
lying in the bed of the river. If I had space I could prove that
South America was formerly here cut off by a strait, joining the
Atlantic and Pacific oceans, like that of Magellan. But it may yet be
asked, how has the solid basalt been removed? Geologists formerly
would have brought into play the violent action of some overwhelming
debacle; but in this case such a supposition would have been quite
inadmissible; because, the same step-like plains with existing
sea-shells lying on their surface, which front the long line of the
Patagonian coast, sweep up on each side of the valley of Santa Cruz.
No possible action of any flood could thus have modelled the land,
either within the valley or along the open coast; and by the
formation of such step-like plains or terraces the valley itself has
been hollowed out. Although we know that there are tides which run
within the Narrows of the Strait of Magellan at the rate of eight
knots an hour, yet we must confess that it makes the head almost
giddy to reflect on the number of years, century after century, which
the tides, unaided by a heavy surf, must have required to have
corroded so vast an area and thickness of solid basaltic lava.
Nevertheless, we must believe that the strata undermined by the
waters of this ancient strait were broken up into huge fragments, and
these lying scattered on the beach were reduced first to smaller
blocks, then to pebbles, and lastly to the most impalpable mud, which
the tides drifted far into the Eastern or Western Ocean.

With
the change in the geological structure of the plains the character of
the landscape likewise altered. While rambling up some of the narrow
and rocky defiles, I could almost have fancied myself transported
back again to the barren valleys of the island of St. Jago. Among the
basaltic cliffs I found some plants which I had seen nowhere else,
but others I recognised as being wanderers from Tierra del Fuego.
These porous rocks serve as a reservoir for the scanty rain-water;
and consequently on the line where the igneous and sedimentary
formations unite, some small springs (most rare occurrences in
Patagonia) burst forth; and they could be distinguished at a distance
by the circumscribed patches of bright green herbage.

April
27th. — The
bed of the
river became rather narrower, and hence the stream more rapid. It
here ran at the rate of six knots an hour. From this cause, and from
the many great angular fragments, tracking the boats became both
dangerous and laborious.

This
day I shot a condor. It measured from tip to tip of the wings eight
and a half feet, and from beak to tail four feet. This bird is known
to have a wide geographical range, being found on the west coast of
South America, from the Strait of Magellan along the Cordillera as
far as eight degrees north of the equator. The steep cliff near the
mouth of the Rio Negro is its northern limit on the Patagonian coast;
and they have there wandered about four hundred miles from the great
central line of their habitation in the Andes. Further south, among
the bold precipices at the head of Port Desire, the condor is not
uncommon; yet only a few stragglers occasionally visit the sea-coast.
A line of cliff near the mouth of the Santa Cruz is frequented by
these birds, and about eighty miles up the river, where the sides of
the valley are formed by steep basaltic precipices, the condor
reappears. From these facts, it seems that the condors require
perpendicular cliffs. In Chile, they haunt, during the greater part
of the year, the lower country near the shores of the Pacific, and at
night several roost together in one tree; but in the early part of
summer they retire to the most inaccessible parts of the inner
Cordillera, there to breed in peace.

BASALTIC GLEN, RIO NEGRO.

With
respect to their propagation, I was told by the country people in
Chile that the condor makes no sort of nest, but in the months of
November and December lays two large white eggs on a shelf of bare
rock. It is said that the young condors cannot fly for an entire
year; and long after they are able, they continue to roost by night,
an hunt by day with their parents. The old birds generally live in
pairs; but among the inland basaltic cliffs of the Santa Cruz I found
a spot where scores must usually haunt. On coming suddenly to the
brow of the precipice, it was a grand spectacle to see between twenty
and thirty of these great birds start heavily from their
resting-place, and wheel away in majestic circles. From the quantity
of dung on the rocks, they must long have frequented this cliff for
roosting and breeding. Having gorged themselves with carrion on the
plains below, they retire to these favourite ledges to digest their
food. From these facts, the condor, like the gallinazo must to a
certain degree be considered as a gregarious bird. In this part of
the country they live altogether on the guanacos which have died a
natural death, or as more commonly happens, have been killed by the
pumas. I believe, from what I saw in Patagonia, that they do not on
ordinary occasions extend their daily excursions to any great
distance from their regular sleeping-places.

The
condors may oftentimes be seen at a great height, soaring over a
certain spot in the most graceful circles. On some occasions I am
sure that they do this only for pleasure, but on others, the Chileno
countryman tells you that they are watching a dying animal, or the
puma devouring its prey. If the condors glide down, and then suddenly
all rise together, the Chileno knows that it is the puma which,
watching the carcass, has sprung out to drive away the robbers.
Besides feeding on carrion, the condors frequently attack young goats
and lambs; and the shepherd-dogs are trained, whenever they pass
over, to run out, and looking upwards to bark violently. The Chilenos
destroy and catch numbers. Two methods are used; one is to place a
carcass on a level piece of ground within an enclosure of sticks with
an opening, and when the condors are gorged, to gallop up on
horseback to the entrance, and thus enclose them: for when this bird
has not space to run, it cannot give its body sufficient momentum to
rise from the ground. The second method is to mark the trees in
which, frequently to the number of five or six together, they roost,
and then at night to climb up and noose them. They are such heavy
sleepers, as I have myself witnessed, that this is not a difficult
task. At Valparaiso I have seen a living condor sold for sixpence,
but the common price is eight or ten shillings. One which I saw
brought in, had been tied with rope, and was much injured; yet, the
moment the line was cut by which its bill was secured, although
surrounded by people, it began ravenously to tear a piece of carrion.
In a garden at the same place, between twenty and thirty were kept
alive. They were fed only once a week, but they appeared in pretty
good health.2
The Chileno countrymen assert that the condor will live, and retain
its vigour, between five and six weeks without eating: I cannot
answer for the truth of this, but it is a cruel experiment, which
very likely has been tried.

When
an animal is killed in the country, it is well known that the
condors, like other carrion-vultures, soon gain intelligence of it,
and congregate in an inexplicable manner. In most cases it must not
be overlooked, that the birds have discovered their prey, and have
picked the skeleton clean, before the flesh is in the least degree
tainted. Remembering the experiments of M. Audubon, on the little
smelling powers of carrion-hawks, I tried in the above-mentioned
garden the following experiment: the condors were tied, each by a
rope, in a long row at the bottom of a wall; and having folded up a
piece of meat in white paper, I walked backwards and forwards,
carrying it in my hand at the distance of about three yards from
them, but no notice whatever was taken. I then threw it on the
ground, within one yard of an old male bird; he looked at it for a
moment with attention, but then regarded it no more. With a stick I
pushed it closer and closer, until at last he touched it with his
beak; the paper was then instantly torn off with fury, and at the
same moment, every bird in the long row began struggling and flapping
its wings. Under the same circumstances it would have been quite
impossible to have deceived a dog. The evidence in favour of and
against the acute smelling powers of carrion-vultures is singularly
balanced. Professor Owen has demonstrated that the olfactory nerves
of the turkey-buzzard (Cathartes aura) are highly developed, and on
the evening when Mr. Owen’s paper was read at the Zoological
Society, it was mentioned by a gentleman that he had seen the
carrion-hawks in the West Indies on two occasions collect on the roof
of a house, when a corpse had become offensive from not having been
buried: in this case, the intelligence could hardly have been
acquired by sight. On the other hand, besides the experiments of
Audubon and that one by myself, Mr. Bachman has tried in the United
States many varied plans, showing that neither the turkey-buzzard
(the species dissected by Professor Owen) nor the gallinazo find
their food by smell. He covered portions of highly-offensive offal
with a thin canvas cloth, and strewed pieces of meat on it: these the
carrion-vultures ate up, and then remained quietly standing, with
their beaks within the eighth of an inch of the putrid mass, without
discovering it. A small rent was made in the canvas, and the offal
was immediately discovered; the canvas was replaced by a fresh piece,
and meat again put on it, and was again devoured by the vultures
without their discovering the hidden mass on which they were
trampling. These facts are attested by the signatures of six
gentlemen, besides that of Mr. Bachman.3

Often
when lying down to rest on the open plains, on looking upwards, I
have seen carrion-hawks sailing through the air at a great height.
Where the country is level I do not believe a space of the heavens,
of more than fifteen degrees above the horizon, is commonly viewed
with any attention by a person either walking or on horseback. If
such be the case, and the vulture is on the wing at a height of
between three and four thousand feet, before it could come within the
range of vision, its distance in a straight line from the beholder’s
eye would be rather more than two British miles. Might it not thus
readily be overlooked? When an animal is killed by the sportsman in a
lonely valley, may he not all the while be watched from above by the
sharp-sighted bird? And will not the manner of its descent proclaim
throughout the district to the whole family of carrion-feeders, that
their prey is at hand?

When
the condors are wheeling in a flock round an round any spot, their
flight is beautiful. Except when rising from the ground, I do not
recollect ever having seen one of these birds flap its wings. Near
Lima, I watched several for nearly half an hour, without once taking
off my eyes: they moved in large curves, sweeping in circles,
descending and ascending without giving a single flap. As they glided
close over my head, I intently watched from an oblique position the
outlines of the separate and great terminal feathers of each wing;
and these separate feathers, if there had been the least vibratory
movement, would have appeared as if blended together; but they were
seen distinct against the blue sky. The head and neck were moved
frequently, and apparently with force; and the extended wings seemed
to form the fulcrum on which the movements of the neck, body and tail
acted. If the bird wished to descend, the wings were for a moment
collapsed; and when again expanded with an altered inclination, the
momentum gained by the rapid descent seemed to urge the bird upwards
with the even and steady movement of a paper kite. In the case of any
bird SOARING, its motion must be sufficiently rapid, so that the
action of the inclined surface of its body on the atmosphere may
counterbalance its gravity. The force to keep up the momentum of a
body moving in a horizontal plane in the air (in which there is so
little friction) cannot be great, and this force is all that is
wanted. The movement of the neck and body of the condor, we must
suppose is sufficient for this. However this may be, it is truly
wonderful and beautiful to see so great a bird, hour after hour,
without any apparent exertion, wheeling and gliding over mountain and
river.

April
29th. — From
some high
land we hailed with joy the white summits of the Cordillera, as they
were seen occasionally peeping through their dusky envelope of
clouds. During the few succeeding days we continued to get on slowly,
for we found the river-course very tortuous, and strewed with immense
fragments of various ancient slaty rocks, and of granite. The plain
bordering the valley had here attained an elevation of about 1100
feet above the river, and its character was much altered. The
well-rounded pebbles of porphyry were mingled with many immense
angular fragments of basalt and of primary rocks. The first of these
erratic boulders which I noticed was sixty-seven miles distant from
the nearest mountain; another which I measured was five yards square,
and projected five feet above the gravel. Its edges were so angular,
and its size so great, that I at first mistook it for a rock in
situ,
and took out my
compass to observe the direction of its cleavage. The plain here was
not quite so level as that nearer the coast, but yet it betrayed no
signs of any great violence. Under these circumstances it is, I
believe, quite impossible to explain the transportal of these
gigantic masses of rock so many miles from their parent-source, on
any theory except by that of floating icebergs.

During
the two last days we met with signs of horses, and with several small
articles which had belonged to the Indians — such as parts of a
mantle and a bunch of ostrich feathers — but they appeared to have
been lying long on the ground. Between the place where the Indians
had so lately crossed the river and this neighbourhood, though so
many miles apart, the country appears to be quite unfrequented. At
first, considering the abundance of the guanacos, I was surprised at
this; but it is explained by the stony nature of the plains, which
would soon disable an unshod horse from taking part in the chase.
Nevertheless, in two places in this very central region, I found
small heaps of stones, which I do not think could have been
accidentally thrown together. They were placed on points projecting
over the edge of the highest lava cliff, and they resembled, but on a
small scale, those near Port Desire.

May
4th. — Captain
Fitz Roy
determined to take the boats no higher. The river had a winding
course, and was very rapid; and the appearance of the country offered
no temptation to proceed any farther. Everywhere we met with the same
productions, and the same dreary landscape. We were now one hundred
and forty miles distant from the Atlantic, and about sixty from the
nearest arm of the Pacific. The valley in this upper part expanded
into a wide basin, bounded on the north and south by the basaltic
platforms, and fronted by the long range of the snow-clad Cordillera.
But we viewed these grand mountains with regret, for we were obliged
to imagine their nature and productions, instead of standing, as we
had hoped, on their summits. Besides the useless loss of time which
an attempt to ascend the river any higher would have cost us, we had
already been for some days on half allowance of bread. This, although
really enough for reasonable men, was, after a hard day’s march,
rather scanty food: a light stomach and an easy digestion are good
things to talk about, but very unpleasant in practice.

5th. — Before
sunrise we commenced our descent. We shot down the stream with great
rapidity, generally at the rate of ten knots an hour. In this one day
we effected what had cost us five and a half hard days’ labour in
ascending. On the 8th we reached the “Beagle” after our
twenty-one days’ expedition. Every one, excepting myself, had cause
to be dissatisfied; but to me the ascent afforded a most interesting
section of the great tertiary formation of Patagonia.

On
March
1st, 1833,
and again on March
16th,
1834,
the Beagle
anchored in Berkeley Sound, in East Falkland Island. This archipelago
is situated in nearly the same latitude with the mouth of the Strait
of Magellan; it covers a space of one hundred and twenty by sixty
geographical miles, and is a little more than half the size of
Ireland. After the possession of these miserable islands had been
contested by France, Spain, and England, they were left uninhabited.
The government of Buenos Ayres then sold them to a private
individual, but likewise used them, as old Spain had done before, for
a penal settlement. England claimed her right an seized them. The
Englishman who was left in charge of the flag was consequently
murdered. A British officer was next sent, unsupported by any power:
and when we arrived, we found him in charge of a population, of which
rather more than half were runaway rebels and murderers.

The
theatre is worthy of the scenes acted on it. An undulating land, with
a desolate and wretched aspect, is everywhere covered by a peaty soil
and wiry grass, of one monotonous brown colour. Here and there a peak
or ridge of grey quartz rock breaks through the smooth surface. Every
one has heard of the climate of these regions; it may be compared to
that which is experienced at the height of between one and two
thousand feet, on the mountains of North Wales; having however less
sunshine and less frost, but more wind and rain.4

16th. — I
will now describe a short excursion which I made round a part of this
island. In the morning I started with six horses and two Gauchos: the
latter were capital men for the purpose, and well accustomed to
living on their own resources. The weather was very boisterous and
cold, with heavy hail-storms. We got on, however, pretty well, but,
except the geology, nothing could be less interesting than our day’s
ride. The country is uniformly the same undulating moorland; the
surface being covered by light brown withered grass and a few very
small shrubs, all springing out of an elastic peaty soil. In the
valleys here and there might be seen a small flock of wild geese, and
everywhere the ground was so soft that the snipe were able to feed.
Besides these two birds there were few others. There is one main
range of hills, nearly two thousand feet in height, and composed of
quartz rock, the rugged and barren crests of which gave us some
trouble to cross. On the south side we came to the best country for
wild cattle; we met, however, no great number, for they had been
lately much harassed.

In
the evening we came across a small herd. One of my companions, St.
Jago by name, soon separated a fat cow; he threw the bolas, and it
struck her legs, but failed in becoming entangled. Then dropping his
hat to mark the spot where the balls were left, while at full gallop
he uncoiled his lazo, and after a most severe chase again came up to
the cow, and caught her round the horns. The other Gaucho had gone on
ahead with the spare horses, so that St. Jago had some difficulty in
killing the furious beast. He managed to get her on a level piece of
ground, by taking advantage of her as often as she rushed at him; and
when she would not move, my horse, from having been trained, would
canter up, and with his chest give her a violent push. But when on
level ground it does not appear an easy job for one man to kill a
beast mad with terror. Nor would it be so if the horse, when left to
itself without its rider, did not soon learn, for its own safety, to
keep the lazo tight; so that, if the cow or ox moves forward, the
horse moves just as quickly forward; otherwise, it stands motionless
leaning on one side. This horse, however, was a young one, and would
not stand still, but gave in to the cow as she struggled. It was
admirable to see with what dexterity St. Jago dodged behind the
beast, till at last he contrived to give the fatal touch to the main
tendon of the hind leg; after which, without much difficulty, he
drove his knife into the head of the spinal marrow, and the cow
dropped as if struck by lightning. He cut off pieces of flesh with
the skin to it, but without any bones, sufficient for our expedition.
We then rode on to our sleeping-place, and had for supper “carne
con cuero,” or meat roasted with the skin on it. This is as
superior to common beef as venison is to mutton. A large circular
piece taken from the back is roasted on the embers with the hide
downwards and in the form of a saucer, so that none of the gravy is
lost. If any worthy alderman had supped with us that evening, “carne
con cuero,” without doubt, would soon have been celebrated in
London.

During
the night it rained, and the next day (17th) was very stormy, with
much hail and snow. We rode across the island to the neck of land
which joins the Rincon del Tor (the great peninsula at the S.W.
extremity) to the rest of the island. From the great number of cows
which have been killed, there is a large proportion of bulls. These
wander about single, or two and three together, and are very savage.
I never saw such magnificent beasts; they equalled in the size of
their huge heads and necks the Grecian marble sculptures. Captain
Sulivan informs me that the hide of an average-sized bull weighs
forty-seven pounds, whereas a hide of this weight, less thoroughly
dried, is considered as a very heavy one at Monte Video. The young
bulls generally run away for a short distance; but the old ones do
not stir a step, except to rush at man and horse; and many horses
have been thus killed. An old bull crossed a boggy stream, and took
his stand on the opposite side to us; we in vain tried to drive him
away, and failing, were obliged to make a large circuit. The Gauchos
in revenge determined to emasculate him and render him for the future
harmless. It was very interesting to see how art completely mastered
force. One lazo was thrown over his horns as he rushed at the horse,
and another round his hind legs: in a minute the monster was
stretched powerless on the ground. After the lazo has once been drawn
tightly round the horns of a furious animal, it does not at first
appear an easy thing to disengage it again without killing the beast:
nor, I apprehend, would it be so if the man was by himself. By the
aid, however, of a second person throwing his lazo so as to catch
both hind legs, it is quickly managed: for the animal, as long as its
hind legs are kept outstretched, is quite helpless, and the first man
can with his hands loosen his lazo from the horns, and then quietly
mount his horse; but the moment the second man, by backing ever so
little, relaxes the strain, the lazo slips off the legs of the
struggling beast which then rises free, shakes himself, and vainly
rushes at his antagonist.

During
our whole ride we saw only one troop of wild horses. These animals,
as well as the cattle, were introduced by the French in 1764, since
which time both have greatly increased. It is a curious fact that the
horses have never left the eastern end of the island, although there
is no natural boundary to prevent them from roaming, and that part of
the island is not more tempting than the rest. The Gauchos whom I
asked, though asserting this to be the case, were unable to account
for it, except from the strong attachment which horses have to any
locality to which they are accustomed. Considering that the island
does not appear fully stocked, and that there are no beasts of prey,
I was particularly curious to know what has checked their originally
rapid increase. That in a limited island some check would sooner or
later supervene, is inevitable; but why has the increase of the horse
been checked sooner than that of the cattle? Capt. Sulivan has taken
much pains for me in this inquiry. The Gauchos employed here
attribute it chiefly to the stallions constantly roaming from place
to place, and compelling the mares to accompany them, whether or not
the young foals are able to follow. One Gaucho told Capt. Sulivan
that he had watched a stallion for a whole hour, violently kicking
and biting a mare till he forced her to leave her foal to its fate.
Captain Sulivan can so far corroborate this curious account, that he
has several times found young foals dead, whereas he has never found
a dead calf. Moreover, the dead bodies of full-grown horses are more
frequently found, as if more subject to disease or accidents than
those of the cattle. From the softness of the ground their hoofs
often grow irregularly to a great length, and this causes lameness.
The predominant colours are roan and iron-grey. All the horses bred
here, both tame and wild, are rather small-sized, though generally in
good condition; and they have lost so much strength, that they are
unfit to be used in taking wild cattle with the lazo: in consequence,
it is necessary to go to the great expense of importing fresh horses
from the Plata. At some future period the southern hemisphere
probably will have its breed of Falkland ponies, as the northern has
its Shetland breed.

The
cattle, instead of having degenerated like the horses, seem, as
before remarked, to have increased in size; and they are much more
numerous than the horses. Capt. Sulivan informs me that they vary
much less in the general form of their bodies and in the shape of
their horns than English cattle. In colour they differ much; and it
is a remarkable circumstance, that in different parts of this one
small island, different colours predominate. Round Mount Usborne, at
a height of from 1000 to 1500 feet above the sea, about half of some
of the herds are mouse or lead coloured, a tint which is not common
in other parts of the island. Near Port Pleasant dark brown prevails,
whereas south of Choiseul Sound (which almost divides the island into
two parts) white beasts with black heads and feet are the most
common: in all parts black, and some spotted animals may be observed.
Capt. Sulivan remarks that the difference in the prevailing colours
was so obvious, that in looking for the herds near Port Pleasant,
they appeared from a long distance like black spots, whilst south of
Choiseul Sound they appeared like white spots on the hill-sides.
Capt. Sulivan thinks that the herds do not mingle; and it is a
singular fact, that the mouse-coloured cattle, though living on the
high land, calve about a month earlier in the season than the other
coloured beasts on the lower land. It is interesting thus to find the
once domesticated cattle breaking into three colours, of which some
one colour would in all probability ultimately prevail over the
others, if the herd were left undisturbed for the next several
centuries.

The
rabbit is another animal which has been introduced, and has succeeded
very well; so that they abound over large parts of the island. Yet,
like the horses, they are confined within certain limits; for they
have not crossed the central chain of hills, nor would they have
extended even so far as its base, if, as the Gauchos informed me,
small colonies had not been carried there. I should not have supposed
that these animals, natives of Northern Africa, could have existed in
a climate so humid as this, and which enjoys so little sunshine that
even wheat ripens only occasionally. It is asserted that in Sweden,
which any one would have thought a more favourable climate, the
rabbit cannot live out of doors. The first few pairs, moreover, had
here to contend against pre-existing enemies, in the fox and some
large hawks. The French naturalists have considered the black variety
a distinct species, and called it Lepus Magellanicus.5

They
imagined that Magellan, when talking of an animal under the name of
“conejos” in the Strait of Magellan, referred to this species;
but he was alluding to a small cavy, which to this day is thus called
by the Spaniards. The Gauchos laughed at the idea of the black kind
being different from the grey, and they said that at all events it
had not extended its range any farther than the grey kind; that the
two were never found separate; and that they readily bred together,
and produced piebald offspring. Of the latter I now possess a
specimen, and it is marked about the head differently from the French
specific description. This circumstance shows how cautious
naturalists should be in making species; for even Cuvier, on looking
at the skull of one of these rabbits, thought it was probably
distinct!

The
only quadruped native to the island6
is a large wolf-like fox (Canis antarcticus), which is common to both
East and West Falkland. I have no doubt it is a peculiar species, and
confined to this archipelago; because many sealers, Gauchos, and
Indians, who have visited these islands, all maintain that no such
animal is found in any part of South America. Molina, from a
similarity in habits, thought that this was the same with his
“culpeu”;7
but I have seen both, and they are quite distinct. These wolves are
well known from Byron’s account of their tameness and curiosity,
which the sailors, who ran into the water to avoid them, mistook for
fierceness. To this day their manners remain the same. They have been
observed to enter a tent, and actually pull some meat from beneath
the head of a sleeping seaman. The Gauchos also have frequently in
the evening killed them, by holding out a piece of meat in one hand,
and in the other a knife ready to stick them. As far as I am aware,
there is no other instance in any part of the world, of so small a
mass of broken land, distant from a continent, possessing so large an
aboriginal quadruped peculiar to itself. Their numbers have rapidly
decreased; they are already banished from that half of the island
which lies to the eastward of the neck of land between St. Salvador
Bay and Berkeley Sound.

Within
a very few years after these islands shall have become regularly
settled, in all probability this fox will be classed with the dodo,
as an animal which has perished from the face of the earth.

At
night (17th) we slept on the neck of land at the head of Choiseul
Sound, which forms the south-west peninsula. The valley was pretty
well sheltered from the cold wind; but there was very little
brushwood for fuel. The Gauchos, however, soon found what, to my
great surprise, made nearly as hot a fire as coals; this was the
skeleton of a bullock lately killed, from which the flesh had been
picked by the carrion-hawks. They told me that in winter they often
killed a beast, cleaned the flesh from the bones with their knives
and then with these same bones roasted the meat for their suppers.

18th. — It
rained during nearly the whole day. At night we managed, however,
with our saddle-cloths to keep ourselves pretty well dry and warm;
but the ground on which we slept was on each occasion nearly in the
state of a bog, and there was not a dry spot to sit down on after our
day’s ride. I have in another part stated how singular it is that
there should be absolutely no trees on these islands, although Tierra
del Fuego is covered by one large forest. The largest bush in the
island (belonging to the family of Compositæ) is scarcely so tall as
our gorse. The best fuel is afforded by a green little bush about the
size of common heath, which has the useful property of burning while
fresh and green. It was very surprising to see the Gauchos, in the
midst of rain and everything soaking wet, with nothing more than a
tinder-box and a piece of rag, immediately make a fire. They sought
beneath the tufts of grass and bushes for a few dry twigs, and these
they rubbed into fibres; then surrounding them with coarser twigs,
something like a bird’s nest, they put the rag with its spark of
fire in the middle and covered it up. The nest being then held up to
the wind, by degrees it smoked more and more, and at last burst out
in flames. I do not think any other method would have had a chance of
succeeding with such damp materials.

19th. — Each
morning, from not having ridden for some time previously, I was very
stiff. I was surprised to hear the Gauchos, who have from infancy
almost lived on horseback, say that, under similar circumstances,
they always suffer. St. Jago told me, that having been confined for
three months by illness, he went out hunting wild cattle, and in
consequence, for the next two days, his thighs were so stiff that he
was obliged to lie in bed. This shows that the Gauchos, although they
do not appear to do so, yet really must exert much muscular effort in
riding. The hunting wild cattle, in a country so difficult to pass as
this is on account of the swampy ground, must be very hard work. The
Gauchos say they often pass at full speed over ground which would be
impassable at a slower pace; in the same manner as a man is able to
skate over thin ice. When hunting, the party endeavours to get as
close as possible to the herd without being discovered. Each man
carries four or five pair of the bolas; these he throws one after the
other at as many cattle, which, when once entangled, are left for
some days, till they become a little exhausted by hunger and
struggling. They are then let free and driven towards a small herd of
tame animals, which have been brought to the spot on purpose. From
their previous treatment, being too much terrified to leave the herd,
they are easily driven, if their strength last out, to the
settlement.

The
weather continued so very bad that we determine to make a push, and
try to reach the vessel before night. From the quantity of rain which
had fallen, the surface of the whole country was swampy. I suppose my
horse fell at least a dozen times, and sometimes the whole six horses
were floundering in the mud together. All the little streams are
bordered by soft peat, which makes it very difficult for the horses
to leap them without falling. To complete our discomforts we were
obliged to cross the head of a creek of the sea, in which the water
was as high as our horses’ backs; and the little waves, owing to
the violence of the wind, broke over us, and made us very wet and
cold. Even the iron-framed Gauchos professed themselves glad when
they reached the settlement, after our little excursion.

The
geological structure of these islands is in most respects simple. The
lower country consists of clay-slate and sandstone, containing
fossils, very closely related to, but not identical with, those found
in the Silurian formations of Europe; the hills are formed of white
granular quartz rock. The strata of the latter are frequently arched
with perfect symmetry, and the appearance of some of the masses is in
consequence most singular. Pernety8
has devoted several pages to the description of a Hill of Ruins, the
successive strata of which he has justly compared to the seats of an
amphitheatre. The quartz rock must have been quite pasty when it
underwent such remarkable flexures without being shattered into
fragments. As the quartz insensibly passes into the sandstone, it
seems probable that the former owes its origin to the sandstone
having been heated to such a degree that it became viscid, and upon
cooling crystallised. While in the soft state it must have been
pushed up through the overlying beds.

In
many parts of the island the bottoms of the valleys are covered in an
extraordinary manner by myriads of great loose angular fragments of
the quartz rock, forming “streams of stones.” These have been
mentioned with surprise by every voyager since the time of Pernety.
The blocks are not waterworn, their angles being only a little
blunted; they vary in size from one or two feet in diameter to ten,
or even more than twenty times as much. They are not thrown together
into irregular piles, but are spread out into level sheets or great
streams. It is not possible to ascertain their thickness, but the
water of small streamlets can be heard trickling through the stones
many feet below the surface. The actual depth is probably great,
because the crevices between the lower fragments must long ago have
been filled up with sand. The width of these sheets of stones varies
from a few hundred feet to a mile; but the peaty soil daily
encroaches on the borders, and even forms islets wherever a few
fragments happen to lie close together. In a valley south of Berkeley
Sound, which some of our party called the “great valley of
fragments,” it was necessary to cross an uninterrupted band half a
mile wide, by jumping from one pointed stone to another. So large
were the fragments, that being overtaken by a shower of rain, I
readily found shelter beneath one of them.

Their
little inclination is the most remarkable circumstance in these
“streams of stones.” On the hill-sides I have seen them sloping
at an angle of ten degrees with the horizon; but in some of the
level, broad-bottomed valleys, the inclination is only just
sufficient to be clearly perceived. On so rugged a surface there was
no means of measuring the angle; but to give a common illustration, I
may say that the slope would not have checked the speed of an English
mail-coach. In some places a continuous stream of these fragments
followed up the course of a valley, and even extended to the very
crest of the hill. On these crests huge masses, exceeding in
dimensions any small building, seemed to stand arrested in their
headlong course: there, also, the curved strata of the archways lay
piled on each other, like the ruins of some vast and ancient
cathedral. In endeavouring to describe these scenes of violence one
is tempted to pass from one simile to another. We may imagine that
streams of white lava had flowed from many parts of the mountains
into the lower country, and that when solidified they had been rent
by some enormous convulsion into myriads of fragments. The expression
“streams of stones,” which immediately occurred to every one,
conveys the same idea. These scenes are on the spot rendered more
striking by the contrast of the low, rounded forms of the
neighbouring hills.

I
was interested by finding on the highest peak of one range (about 700
feet above the sea) a great arched fragment, lying on its convex
side, or back downwards. Must we believe that it was fairly pitched
up in the air, and thus turned? Or, with more probability, that there
existed formerly a part of the same range more elevated than the
point on which this monument of a great convulsion of nature now
lies. As the fragments in the valleys are neither rounded nor the
crevices filled up with sand, we must infer that the period of
violence was subsequent to the land having been raised above the
waters of the sea. In a transverse section within these valleys the
bottom is nearly level, or rises but very little towards either side.
Hence the fragments appear to have travelled from the head of the
valley; but in reality it seems more probable that they have been
hurled down from the nearest slopes; and that since, by a vibratory
movement of overwhelming force,9
the fragments have been levelled into one continuous sheet. If during
the earthquake10
which in 1835 overthrew Concepcion, in Chile, it was thought
wonderful that small bodies should have been pitched a few inches
from the ground, what must we say to a movement which has caused
fragments many tons in weight to move onwards like so much sand on a
vibrating board, and find their level? I have seen, in the Cordillera
of the Andes, the evident marks where stupendous mountains have been
broken into pieces like so much thin crust, and the strata thrown on
their vertical edges; but never did any scene, like these “streams
of stones,” so forcibly convey to my mind the idea of a convulsion,
of which in historical records we might in vain seek for any
counterpart: yet the progress of knowledge will probably some day
give a simple explanation of this phenomenon, as it already has of
the so long thought inexplicable transportal of the erratic boulders
which are strewed over the plains of Europe.

I
have little to remark on the zoology of these islands. I have before
described the carrion-vulture of Polyborus. There are some other
hawks, owls, and a few small land-birds. The waterfowl are
particularly numerous, and they must formerly, from the accounts of
the old navigators, have been much more so. One day I observed a
cormorant playing with a fish which it had caught. Eight times
successively the bird let its prey go, then dived after it, and
although in deep water, brought it each time to the surface. In the
Zoological Gardens I have seen the otter treat a fish in the same
manner, much as a cat does a mouse: I do not know of any other
instance where dame Nature appears so wilfully cruel. Another day,
having placed myself between a penguin (Aptenodytes demersa) and the
water, I was much amused by watching its habits. It was a brave bird;
and till reaching the sea, it regularly fought and drove me
backwards. Nothing less than heavy blows would have stopped him;
every inch he gained he firmly kept, standing close before me erect
and determined. When thus opposed he continually rolled his head from
side to side, in a very odd manner, as if the power of distinct
vision lay only in the anterior and basal part of each eye. This bird
is commonly called the jackass penguin, from its habit, while on
shore, of throwing its head backwards, and making a loud strange
noise, very like the braying of an ass; but while at sea, and
undisturbed, its note is very deep and solemn, and is often heard in
the night-time. In diving, its little wings are used as fins; but on
the land, as front legs. When crawling, it may be said on four legs,
through the tussocks or on the side of a grassy cliff, it moves so
very quickly that it might easily be mistaken for a quadruped. When
at sea and fishing, it comes to the surface for the purpose of
breathing with such a spring, and dives again so instantaneously,
that I defy any one at first sight to be sure that it was not a fish
leaping for sport.

Two
kinds of geese frequent the Falklands. The upland species (Anas
Magellanica) is common, in pairs and in small flocks, throughout the
island. They do not migrate, but build on the small outlying islets.
This is supposed to be from fear of the foxes: and it is perhaps from
the same cause that these birds, though very tame by day, are shy and
wild in the dusk of the evening. They live entirely on vegetable
matter. The rock-goose, so called from living exclusively on the
sea-beach (Anas antarctica), is common both here and on the west
coast of America, as far north as Chile. In the deep and retired
channels of Tierra del Fuego, the snow-white gander, invariably
accompanied by his darker consort, and standing close by each other
on some distant rocky point, is a common feature in the landscape.

In
these islands a great loggerheaded duck or goose (Anas brachyptera),
which sometimes weighs twenty-two pounds, is very abundant. These
birds were in former days called, from their extraordinary manner of
paddling and splashing upon the water, racehorses; but now they are
named, much more appropriately, steamers. Their wings are too small
and weak to allow of flight, but by their aid, partly swimming and
partly flapping the surface of the water, they move very quickly. The
manner is something like that by which the common house-duck escapes
when pursued by a dog; but I am nearly sure that the steamer moves
its wings alternately, instead of both together, as in other birds.
These clumsy, loggerheaded ducks make such a noise and splashing,
that the effect is exceedingly curious.

Thus
we find in South America three birds which use their wings for other
purposes besides flight; the penguin as fins, the steamer as paddles,
and the ostrich as sails: and the Apteryx of New Zealand, as well as
its gigantic extinct prototype the Deinornis, possess only
rudimentary representatives of wings. The steamer is able to dive
only to a very short distance. It feeds entirely on shell-fish from
the kelp and tidal rocks; hence the beak and head, for the purpose of
breaking them, are surprisingly heavy and strong: the head is so
strong that I have scarcely been able to fracture it with my
geological hammer; and all our sportsmen soon discovered how
tenacious these birds were of life. When in the evening pluming
themselves in a flock, they make the same odd mixture of sounds which
bull-frogs do within the tropics.

In
Tierra del Fuego, as well as in the Falkland Islands, I made many
observations on the lower marine animals,11
but they are of little general interest. I will mention only one
class of facts, relating to certain zoophytes in the more highly
organised division of that class. Several genera (Flustra, Eschara,
Cellaria, Crisia, and others) agree in having singular movable organs
(like those of Flustra avicularia, found in the European seas)
attached to their cells. The organ, in the greater number of cases,
very closely resembles the head of a vulture; but the lower mandible
can be opened much wider than in a real bird’s beak. The head
itself possesses considerable powers of movement, by means of a short
neck. In one zoophyte the head itself was fixed, but the lower jaw
free: in another it was replaced by a triangular hood, with a
beautifully-fitted trap-door, which evidently answered to the lower
mandible. In the greater number of species, each cell was provided
with one head, but in others each cell had two.

The
young cells at the end of the branches of these corallines contain
quite immature polypi, yet the vulture-heads attached to them, though
small, are in every respect perfect. When the polypus was removed by
a needle from any of the cells, these organs did not appear in the
least affected. When one of the vulture-like heads was cut off from
the cell, the lower mandible retained its power of opening and
closing. Perhaps the most singular part of their structure is, that
when there were more than two rows of cells on a branch, the central
cells were furnished with these appendages, of only one-fourth the
size of the outside ones. Their movements varied according to the
species; but in some I never saw the least motion; while others, with
the lower mandible generally wide open, oscillated backwards and
forwards at the rate of about five seconds each turn; others moved
rapidly and by starts. When touched with a needle, the beak generally
seized the point so firmly that the whole branch might be shaken.

These
bodies have no relation whatever with the production of the eggs or
gemmules, as they are formed before the young polypi appear in the
cells at the end of the growing branches; as they move independently
of the polypi, and do not appear to be in any way connected with
them; and as they differ in size on the outer and inner rows of
cells, I have little doubt that in their functions they are related
rather to the horny axis of the branches than to the polypi in the
cells. The fleshy appendage at the lower extremity of the sea-pen
(described at Bahia Blanca) also forms part of the zoophyte, as a
whole, in the same manner as the roots of a tree form part of the
whole tree, and not of the individual leaf or flower-buds.

In
another elegant little coralline (Crisia?) each cell was furnished
with a long-toothed bristle, which had the power of moving quickly.
Each of these bristles and each of the vulture-like heads generally
moved quite independently of the others, but sometimes all on both
sides of a branch, sometimes only those on one side, moved together
coinstantaneously; sometimes each moved in regular order one after
another. In these actions we apparently behold as perfect a
transmission of will in the zoophyte, though composed of thousands of
distinct polypi, as in any single animal. The case, indeed, is not
different from that of the sea-pens, which, when touched, drew
themselves into the sand on the coast of Bahia Blanca. I will state
one other instance of uniform action, though of a very different
nature, in a zoophyte closely allied to Clytia, and therefore very
simply organised. Having kept a large tuft of it in a basin of
salt-water, when it was dark I found that as often as I rubbed any
part of a branch, the whole became strongly phosphorescent with a
green light: I do not think I ever saw any object more beautifully
so. But the remarkable circumstance was, that the flashes of light
always proceeded up the branches, from the base towards the
extremities.

The
examination of these compound animals was always very interesting to
me. What can be more remarkable than to see a plant-like body
producing an egg, capable of swimming about and of choosing a proper
place to adhere to, which then sprouts into branches, each crowded
with innumerable distinct animals, often of complicated
organisations. The branches, moreover, as we have just seen,
sometimes possess organs capable of movement and independent of the
polypi. Surprising as this union of separate individuals in a common
stock must always appear, every tree displays the same fact, for buds
must be considered as individual plants. It is, however, natural to
consider a polypus, furnished with a mouth, intestines, and other
organs, as a distinct individual, whereas the individuality of a
leaf-bud is not easily realised; so that the union of separate
individuals in a common body is more striking in a coralline than in
a tree. Our conception of a compound animal, where in some respects
the individuality of each is not completed, may be aided, by
reflecting on the production of two distinct creatures by bisecting a
single one with a knife, or where Nature herself performs the task of
bisection. We may consider the polypi in a zoophyte, or the buds in a
tree, as cases where the division of the individual has not been
completely effected. Certainly in the case of trees, and judging from
analogy in that of corallines, the individuals propagated by buds
seem more intimately related to each other, than eggs or seeds are to
their parents. It seems now pretty well established that plants
propagated by buds all partake of a common duration of life; and it
is familiar to every one, what singular and numerous peculiarities
are transmitted with certainty, by buds, layers, and grafts, which by
seminal propagation never or only casually reappear.

BERKELEY SOUND, FALKLAND ISLANDS.

1.
The desserts of Syria are characterised, according to Volney (tome i,
p. 351), by woody bushes, numerous rats, gazelles and hares. In the
landscape of Patagonia the guanaco replaces the gazelle, and the
agouti the hare.

2.
I noticed that several hours before any one of the condors died, all
the lice, with which it was infested, crawled to the outside
feathers. I was assured that this always happens.

3.
Loudon’s Magazine
of
Natural History,
vol. vii.

4.
From accounts published since our voyage, and more especially from
several interesting letters from Capt. Sulivan, R.N., employed on the
survey, it appears that we took an exaggerated view of the badness of
the climate on these islands. But when I reflect on the almost
universal covering of peat, and on the fact of wheat seldom ripening
here, I can hardly believe that the climate in summer is so fine and
dry as it has lately been represented.

5.
Lesson’s Zoology
of the
Voyage of the Coquille,
tome i, p. 168. All the early voyagers, and especially Bougainville,
distinctly state that the wolf-like fox was the only native animal on
the island. The distinction of the rabbit as a species is taken from
peculiarities in the fur, from the shape of the head, and from the
shortness of the ears. I may here observe that the difference between
the Irish and English hare rests upon nearly similar characters, only
more strongly marked.

6.
I have reason, however, to suspect that there is a field-mouse. The
common European rat and mouse have roamed far from the habitations of
the settlers. The common hog has also run wild on one islet; all are
of a black colour: the boars are very fierce, and have great tusks.

7.
The “culpeu” is the Canis Magellanicus brought home by Captain
King from the Strait of Magellan. It is common in Chile.

10.
An inhabitant of Mendoza, and hence well capable of judging, assured
me that, during the several years he had resided on these islands, he
had never felt the slightest shock of an earthquake.

11.
I was surprised to find, on counting the eggs of a large white Doris
(this sea-slug was three and a half inches long), how extraordinarily
numerous they were. From two to five eggs (each three-thousandths of
an inch in diameter) were contained in spherical little case. These
were arranged two deep in transverse rows forming a ribbon. The
ribbon adhered by its edge to the rock in an oval spire. One which I
found measured nearly twenty inches in length and half in breadth. By
counting how many balls were contained in a tenth of an inch in the
row, and how many rows in an equal length of the ribbon, on the most
moderate computation there were six hundred thousand eggs. Yet this
Doris was certainly not very common: although I was often searching
under the stones, I saw only seven individuals. No
fallacy is more common with naturalists, than that the numbers of an
individual species depend on its powers of propagation.